She raised her hands and dropped them. A conflict from years before between people she didn’t even know forbidding her from doing what she wanted to do. “Fine. I understand. I’m leaving.”
“Kayla, please.”
“What?” She spun on one foot and exhaled. All the back and forth turmoil played on her emotions so she didn’t know what to think.
“I want to see you again.”
His rich velvety voice melted through some of her exasperation. “How? You know the rules. You just explained them.”
“Meet me here tomorrow at this time,” he insisted.
His invitation filled her with delight, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy to escape the coven, especially on the night of the summer solstice. One night earlier this week, she’d been thwarted by her mother and aunts who insisted she come to a bonfire gathering. “I will try,” she promised. “But it won’t be easy.”
He furrowed a brow. “No, it won’t. Not with the feud between our clans.” He took her hand and searched her eyes with an imploring look. “Please try.”
She planted a kiss on his still parted lips. “I’ll find a way.”
He exhaled and then smiled. “I’m sure you will. Witches are resourceful.” He held her hand and rubbed a circular design on her palm before releasing it. “Until tomorrow.”
She ran the remaining distance across the moors, the neutral land between that of the witches, wolves, and gargoyles. When she glanced back, Mason was no longer at the edge of the copse. Perched in the branches of a tree above, he watched over her. Warmth encased her heart knowing he made sure she made it home safely.
She didn’t know if or how she would be able to return tomorrow. Or if she could sneak home undetected tonight. She blew him a kiss before she continued her journey through the oaks and Scots pine to return to her house in the trees.
CHAPTER THREE
Hidden in the cloak of the trees, Mason watched until Kayla was safe, deep into the realm of the Caledonia coven. As a gargoyle, he was forbidden to cross over into the witches’ territory, part of a treaty signed by the elders when he was twelve. The forbidden aspect of visiting the enchanted land had increased the allure. He had flown over their territory many nights, seeking a glimpse through the foliage. Through gaps, a number of houses were visible, built into the branches of majestic trees. Canopies of silver fir, spruce, beech, and Scots pine created a lush green cover in the forests of Northern Caledonia. Ferns framed the entry into their world, accented by rhododendron, azalea, and roses that poked through the greenery with bright colors. Rugged red cliffs descended to moss-covered rocks that welcomed the cool waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Often a fine mist covered their land, adding to its mystical atmosphere. Its beauty surpassed that of many places he’d visited, he suspected its lush growth was enhanced by magic.
He gazed at their land, the only part of the island still cloaked with enough magic to keep trespassers away. The tree witches had cast so many spells that he doubted any humans could ever find it.
Mason brought his wings in to bolt into the sky before unfurling them to survey the island from above, the way he and his brothers did each night. Sometimes they flew to distant lands to explore other places, especially their ancestral home in the Scottish Highlands, but they always scanned the Isle of Stone for danger before leaving its borders. Mason spotted a trail of discarded trash leading from the gargoyle amphitheater to the ferry. One of the problems with the humans was their lack of respect for the earth.
Putting on the nightly shows for humans was a tricky venture. Mason and his brothers found an audience who enjoyed their music and they enjoyed the attention of the human females. They’d also welcomed the solar-powered technology they acquired from humans on other islands. During the rough transition years of adolescence, they’d discovered rock music. The elders had disapproved of their fixation on human music, yet another difference between the old and new ways. When the brothers created the Knights of Stone and played in cities in Europe, the elders made their objections loud and clear. No point in living stuck in the old ways. The world had changed over the centuries. Gargoyles lived in cities, taking posts on buildings, or clung to the old ways living in the ancient forests like that of his clan.
Mason saw movement in the skies above the Atlantic. Based on their distinctive shape and flight patterns, he deduced it was his brothers flying from the island. He grinned—probably in search of female attention, as usual.
When he caught up with them, his youngest brother Calum, the energetic front man for their band, said, “We wondered where you’d gone.”
“Just exploring,” Mason lied. “Where are you headed?”
“We thought we’d go searching for some fine lasses on the mainland tonight,” Gavin said.
Although all his gargoyle brothers thrived on chasing females, to Gavin, it was more than mere sport or entertainment. He lived and breathed thinking about females, whether in flesh or stone.
The five of them remained still in stone for hours usually during the day. Gargoyles didn’t sleep the way humans and animals did, cut off from the world. Their rest period was more meditative in their stone forms so they could observe signs of unrest. Once the blood resumed flowing through a gargoyle’s veins, the drive to mate became unable to ignore. The blood animated their bodies, a surge of energy that gave them achingly-hard erections. They had enjoyed many lovely human lassies willing to try to sate their lust, yet none had settled with one female. Even his oldest brothers, Lachlan and Bryce, who were in their mid-thirties, remained unhitched. This worried the elders since reproduction was a sensitive topic. The tree witches had cursed the gargoyles twenty-five years ago, making them unable to bear young. Since the curse had been lifted, the gargoyle clan sought to continue the line with the birth of many young gargoyles. The elders pressured Mason and his brothers, who were not ready to settle down. When the clan returned to the Scottish Highlands, they found more freedom to carry on their lifestyle.
The tree witches were behind that curse on the gargoyles. And yet he’d spent time with a lovely tree witch tonight, one who had hair as dark as the midnight skies. Would a tree witch be able to bear a child with a gargoyle? If so, the offspring of such a pairing would likely have immense power and capabilities.
He shook his head. What was wrong with him to think this way? He snapped out of his introspection to get back to the present.
“Not enough female attention for you at the show tonight?” Mason teased.
“Plenty of fine ones ready and willing,” Gavin said. “But I’m itching for a chase off the isle.”
“Let’s go.”
Mason joined them to distract himself, but it didn’t help. Kayla’s presence at their shows had left him unnerved. The way she stared at him was intoxicating, threatening to make him hard. Her being a tree witch complicated the issue. He should have walked away when he’d found out.
Then why did he escort her? Kiss her? Invite her to return tomorrow?
A dull ache throbbed in his head. He blinked his eyes to find some relief and clear the confusion.
When he’d glanced in her wide eyes, the color of the bright blue lochs in the early morn, he saw no malice. She appeared kind. Caring. He sensed it in her, piercing holes in what he’d been told of the evil coven. Were they evil, responsible for the near extinction of the gargoyles?
Or was there more to the story?
After they’d flown miles over the Atlantic, he gave up the hunt to search for other lasses. “I’m heading back to the isle,” he said.
“What’s gotten into you?” Gavin asked.
“Nothing,” Mason lied. “Just not in the mood. Going to stay close to home tonight.” Close to Kayla.
Mason flew off and returned to the isle. He flew near the coastline of the witches’ territory and wondered if Kayla slept safe.
Before sunrise, he and his brothers had resumed their stone forms at the amphitheater. Mason attempted to enter a restful state, but he couldn’t g
et the image of Kayla out of his mind. What was it about this wee tree witch that had him so wound up? Whenever he thought of her, a beast rose within him, wanting to touch every part of her.
What had she done to him? No woman had ever had such a grip on his thoughts.
Ah, she was a witch, after all. She must have bewitched him with some sort of potion. He didn’t drink anything when he was with her, witches were crafty. She could find another way to bend his will. Although he wanted to attribute his obsessive thoughts to a spell, a small voice inside told him it wasn’t true.
“You’ve been acting strange all night,” Calum communicated from his stone repose.
“Some lass on your mind?”
Was his distraction that obvious? Mason couldn’t admit the truth, that a tree witch had captivated him.
“Has she found a way into your stone heart or cock?” Gavin added, and his four brothers chuckled.
“Ha ha,” Mason replied. He had to regain control on his emotions.
*
Kayla spent much of the night staring at the thatched roof. Her room was a tiny octagonal shape, higher in the branches of a Scots pine tree while her mother slept in a room in an adjacent tree below. Their rooms in their tree house were connected by rope bridges to a shared living area with her mother’s two sisters, Muriel and Emma.
Kayla had never known her father, a witch from the Americas, who’d spent a summer on the Isle of Stone. He’d met her mother in Inverness one summer and she brought him to the island. He’d left that fall before knowing she had been conceived, and her mother claimed she knew no way to contact him. She’d brushed it off, saying if he wanted to stay in touch, he knew where she was, but Kayla saw the hurt behind her dismissal.
What Kayla didn’t know of him, she created in her mind. An image of a powerful witch with dark hair and blue eyes, eyes so striking her mother had found him irresistible and had fallen for him hard, against her better judgment. Kayla had inherited her blue eyes from her father, and she wondered if the resemblance brought her mother pain.
Another man now preoccupied her thoughts. One with long dark hair and eyes as green as the mosses on the shore. His chiseled lips had grazed hers with softness before he’d claimed her with hungry possession. When she pictured how he’d watched her with a mix of desire and fascination, something lit deep inside her. She ran her fingers over her lips, remembering how he’d taken her in his embrace, fastening his mouth on hers. His kiss had ignited something inside her, one encounter would never be enough. Longing spread through her body. Her nipples tingled with sensitivity, aching to be touched. Touched by his firm hands, caressed, and kissed.
She ran her hands from her lips down to her breasts, imagining it was Mason touching her. The way he’d looked at her with such wonder made her feel unique. It was foolish to think that way, but when he’d escorted her, she felt special, different. She moved her fingers down her belly and in between her thighs, easily slipping a digit inside. What would it feel like with Mason’s body on top of her, sliding deep inside? Penetrating her with his magnificent, hard body while he fixed his hungry eyes on hers?
She fantasized about being back in the forest and continuing with their kiss. The passion would heighten as their hands roved over each other’s bodies. In a frenzy to touch, he’d tear off her clothes, and she’d strip off his kilt. He’d lay her gently on the soft groundcover and take her under the cover of the trees.
She circled her swollen clit, and her need for more intensity rose higher. Her breathing escalated and then hitched as she applied more pressure. When she crested and crashed over the edge, she arched her back as waves of pleasure flowed through her.
Her breathing and heartbeat slowed, and she thought about seeing him again tomorrow night. With all hands attending for the summer solstice, she wasn’t sure how she’d sneak away. But, she’d damn well try.
When she woke, Kayla spent the morning outdoors, weeding and gathering cuttings from the herb section. Her gifts lay in horticulture and potions so she spent many hours tending to the garden, using magic to help it flourish. She picked a handful of basil, mint, rosemary, and other herbs before climbing over the stone border of the garden.
Stone. She touched the cool gray matter. Was it the same as that of the gargoyles? It couldn’t be, could it? Mason’s smooth skin was warm to the touch, not cool like this rock. Their stone had to be malleable somehow, turning to flesh. Or was it magic?
After delivering herbs to her mother, one of the best chefs in the coven, she followed her mother’s instructions on what to cut or steep.
“You disappeared from the gathering last night.”
Her mother’s tone shot Kayla into a defensive mode.
“We’d done the fertility rituals many times. I didn’t think I needed to stay.”
“We also finalized plans for the solstice tonight. Where did you go?”
Kayla feigned greater interest in the basil she was cutting. “Nowhere really. Just walking.” Her cheeks warmed with guilt.
“Be there tonight. This is one of our most important gatherings. If there are decisions to be made, you should be a part of the vote.”
“I don’t have a say,” Kayla protested. “The elders make all decisions. A young witch like me has little voice in any matters.”
“But still a voice nonetheless,” her mother said. “This is your coven. You are becoming a powerful witch, so you should take on a greater role in its future.”
*
Kayla gritted her teeth all afternoon. How would she escape tonight? Families were sharing in a potluck feast, and the celebration would last all night. She usually looked forward to the event with all the delicious foods and elderberry wine, but this time she was distracted.
She helped her mother prepare a casserole with fresh caught fish and garden vegetables, and they brought it to the feast. Witches had covered the oak banquet table with trays of stuffed tomatoes and zucchini, shellfish, and more. The table itself was carved by one of the male witches who was renowned for his carpentry skills.
Kayla’s foot tapped impatiently throughout the dinner feast, and she ate with far less gusto than usual. Even her wine goblet remained full. When her mother called her to the fire, she suppressed a sigh.
The circle was cast, and the altar was set. The elders led them through a ritual to burn away negativity, using bundles of herbs Kayla had grown. Then they presented the importance of the solstice to the young witches. When they asked if anyone had questions, Kayla piped up.
“I’ve grown up hearing I must stay away from the other parts of the island, but I’ve never fully understood why.
Matilda, an ancient witch with hair more white than gray, said, “I don’t see how this has anything to do with the solstice.” She straightened her cross-legged position at the fire. “Stay away from them.”
“But why?” Kayla prodded.
The old witch appraised her through her hooded eyes. “They attacked us many years ago. Accused us of doing things we didn’t do.”
“What did they say we’d done?”
“Gargoyles are bloodthirsty creatures. They’d find a reason to seek vengeance in even the most unjust of accusations. And the wolf shifters will find any excuse to shed blood.”
Kayla furrowed her brow. She’d seen the gargoyles play at night and didn’t see signs of this bloodlust. “Can’t we find a way to come together? Whatever happened in the past is long done.”
“We lost many promising witches.” She turned from Kayla. “Let’s return to the ritual.”
Although Kayla didn’t learn much, at least she’d made her presence known. Her mother knew she was here. The ceremony ended with witches beating drums and singing, some began dancing in a circle around the fire. Kayla glanced at her mother and saw her distracted by a conversation. Kayla moved to the edge of the circle. Night gave her cover, but the fire cast a glow lighting those closest to the flames. The further she moved into the shadows, the easier it would be to escape.
<
br /> She seized an opportunity to blend in and sneak out under cover of darkness. It was earlier than they’d planned to meet so she’d head to the gargoyle’s territory and catch their show. Running through the woods, she had to lean forward, panting, when she finally reached the moors. She slowed her pace as she padded through tall grasses that tickled her shins. Excitement brewed within her as she approached their land. She quickened her step as anticipation bubbled as potent as a potion in a boiling cauldron.
An uncomfortable sensation prickled the back of her neck, and she froze. Something was watching her. She spun around searching through the heather and taller grasses. She’d never experienced fear in this peaceful expanse, but anxiety pervaded her as it did on nights in the forests, when the dark realms encouraged her deepest fears to take shape.
Past the vertical obelisks left by her ancestors, she spotted a silver-gray wolf watching her. It was outside the border of the wolves’ territory with its hilly terrain. What was it doing there? The wolves kept to themselves in their land. Ice froze her veins. Was it searching for prey? Would it come her way, bounding through the woods to attack? Or was the wolf curious and hesitant, same as she?
Mason’s words about the wolves returned to her. She shot a quick glance to the sky and saw the moon was half-full. This gave her some comfort, the moon at its fullest could affect all creatures, especially ones sensitive to lunar cycles like the wolves. She watched the wolf with wariness and continued through the moors with quickened steps.
Once in the gargoyle’s land, she exhaled with relief. Excitement bubbled through her as she approached the amphitheater, knowing she’d see Mason soon. She quickened her pace.
She heard the audience before she saw them, a low murmur of discussions that hummed her way. A large crowd had gathered tonight. Each night it appeared to grow bigger than the previous one. As word of the gargoyle rock show spread, so did the size of the crowd.
The five statues loomed above the crowd, still and timeless. The last light of the setting sun cast an eerie glow around them. When she fixed her gaze on Mason’s stone form, her heart thumped. She scanned every inch of his silhouette, wondering about the spark of life within the stone that would animate him into flesh. A warm-blooded male with a heated touch and sensuous lips that made her melt.
Knights of Stone: Mason (Highland Gargoyles Book 1) Page 3